Demon of Consequence
by Sambev
Summary: COMPLETED After Dib's death, Zim began to realize that he was either insane, or that his greatest victory had become his greatest nightmare come true.
1. Default Chapter

(**READ ME DARNIT**, I'm editting. I was going to flat out do another draft, but I was afraid to. I got such encouraging and amazing reviews from some really committed people (I know who you are, and you know who you are, so thank you) and didn't want to ruin a good thing. Sure it could get better, but I like it how it is. But I made some corrections, I felt like the story and readers deserved it.)

This chapter is supposed to be brief and under described, but bare with it until the next chapter.

**EDITED **Prologue to: Demon of Consequence

There were days, at first, when he thought he was just having a mental rush, a nervous breakdown as the Earthlings called it. By the tallest, he'd earned it. But more and more often Zim began to realize that he was either insane, or that his greatest victory had become his greatest nightmare come to life.

Always, every moment of every day, _he_ was there. Zim would sit on the couch with GIR, slouching and tired from another mundane skool day. While half trying to understand the Earth style humor spewing out of the television like an illness. Then a noise would catch his attention from the window; there Dib's face would glare back at him from outside.

Buying supplies at the store, familiar hazel eyes would find his when he removed something from the shelf. Never failing to make the Irken twitch in surprise.

At school, idly drawing on his notebook, every time someone walked passed the open classroom door it was Dib, walking slowly, staring at Zim, while the alien stared back horrified.

The first time Zim had seen him, or at the time thought he had seen him, it was just a brief glimpse of the boy's black trench coat, covered in mud, disappearing into a crowd. Zim had jolted to attention, suddenly nervous, but it had been easy for Zim to forget about, it could be any filthy human; they all rather looked the same to him.

It wasn't until later that he knew it had been Dib.

Zim began to notice, with a yawing unconscious realization, Dib had always been far away ay first, the Irken rarely even saw the other's face, let alone been able to see his emotion as it was aimed at him. Then as time wore on, the boy came closer. Possibly become less timid, more angry. Or maybe he sensed Zim's fear and wanted to increase upon it. If that was the case, how long would it be before the dead fingers wrapped around Zim's throat?

Usually the dead boy was angry when he appeared, his smooth young face glaring with hatred at the alien responsible for his death, but not all the time. Sometimes he looked sad or scared, but always, he looked just like he had when he died. His glasses cracked, blood running in small trails from the corner of his mouth. The dagger that had killed him still lodged in his chest, covered in blood. Everything always covered in blood. A frozen picture from a moment Zim wished he could forget.

A few times Zim had tried to catch his _enemy_. At first believing Dib was not really dead, and somehow he felt relieved he wasn't without knowing why. Then it became distressingly clear that Dib was not alive, he couldn't be, because Zim could not catch him, it was a futile race no more possible than if the Irken tried to hold hands with his own shadow.

Zim never believed in ghosts or the undead, but he believed in what he was seeing now. How could he not? If anyone would have the drive to haunt the living, wouldn't it be Dib? The paranormal investigator, murdered in the prime of life, the boy who never got to prove himself. It made perfect sense, sadly enough.

After thinking it through, the alien feared that he might actually catch Dib if he tried long enough, and he did not know would happen, and in very little time did not want to. Perhaps his hands would slide right though, proving that he was simply insane.

Then, maybe they _wouldn't_, that scared Zim the most. Having to feel cold dead flesh of a body that should be no more. If Dib somehow was still undead... catching him might mean evoking the violence held behind the anger, and a battle against something already deceased Zim did not want.

His attempts at capture halted immediately once all this became clear to him. Maybe if Zim ignored him, he would go away. Dib was dead and he would just have to get used to it, just like Zim would have to as well.

Zim was no longer a threat, he no longer intended any harm to this planet, didn't Dib understand that? Through all the time Dib spent _staring_ at him, could he not see that Zim was just living, like every other creature on the planet. Couldn't he see that he had won and just leave Zim the his own guilty torment?

Ah ha, guilt, that also became clear to the Irken.

He felt guilty for what he had done, he wished he could take it back, he wished he had been killed instead. Anything but what had happened. But Dib must not be able to see that, or else he doesn't care.

Weeks, even days before Dib's death, Zim would have believed Dib not to care if he regretted an action or not. But as it came down to the minutes before Zim stood facing the human; trembling in anticipation, but not smiling, with the dagger in this fist. He knew Dib did care, that he would have forgiven Zim, and perhaps even become his ally.

Of course that is why he had killed him; Zim had been afraid of friendship. The prospect of giving in and moving on with his life without the Irken Empire scared him. So he killed Dib, and he would take it back if he could. But he couldn't, and now he faced the demon of consequence; Dib.

(Chapter two edit coming soon)


	2. Chapter two

(I changed a lot on this one actually, no one said it in the reviews, but it's still rather rediculous that Zim would write a poem. I mean, common, who am I trying to kid here? But he would steal Dib's poem. Alright, doesn't make much sense that he has Dib's back pack either... Anyway, I can change it back if you ask me to, easily)

* * *

Tacos.

Why did this planet care so much about something so _disgusting_. GIR squealed with joy and clapped his metallic hands together. "I want tacos!" It looked expectantly at Zim, who only quirked an eye in response

GIR was watching television, that's what the thing did, it watched TV, ate and partied. There was nothing more human than that, and yet Zim welcomed the thing into his home with a kind of twisted need. What did Zim have if he didn't have GIR? The robot might be an obnoxious scientific blunder, but he belonged to Zim, and the alien was determined to hold on to him. Almost like he was trying to replace something.

"Tacos?" It asked. Zim didn't bother to get up from where he lay on the couch, stretched out unofficially and partially turned towards the television set. It no longer matter whether he faced his SIR until like a commander any more, and since GIR didn't care, neither did he.

An awkward silence fell between the two of them, it's tacos did not interest Zim. Eventually GIR scampered out the door screaming. Zim shrugged, nothing that hadn't happened many times before, it didn't even cause Zim to blink an eye.

The door was left open during GIR's frenzied escape, and a breeze came into the other wise stale room. For a moment Zim enjoyed the coolness that was a simple gift from the overheated planet, before he would get up to close it. As he stood to do so, completely deadpan, he looked at the door, his ruby eyes dull and expecting.. Waiting for _him_.

The handle of the dagger appeared first through the door, then Dib came through behind it with a slow kind of grace. As always fresh blood dripping onto the floor from his black, open chest wound. The dead boy peered at Zim out of the corner of his eye, then took a standing position in front of the television.

There was something eerily calm about the boy today. Zim felt bile rising in his throat, his antennae twitched nervously, but otherwise the Irken soldier stayed still. Hoping this would be the day he woke up from the nightmare, but not really hopeful.

For a moment the two just stared at each other. Zim seeing the bleeding undead form of a child, form darkened and glasses lit by the TV, and never knowing what it was that Dib saw, if he saw at all. Or if he was just there as an illusion, while his mind was perhaps elsewhere.

Just within the last few weeks Dib had been coming so close as he was now. A mere ten feet away, shockingly enough. All it would take was one lunge forward, either from Zim, that was unthinkable of course, or from the boy.

There was a difference from before though; now Zim was sometimes allowed a moment of peace. Ridiculously he almost found himself being thankful to the Dib for it, like a slave would to its master. Although Zim didn't need privacy, Dib was always watching, whether he could be seen or not. It was a release for his mind, just not having to hear the steady maddening drip of blood on his floor, orDib's face, his accusing stares...

_'It was about time he came closer'_, Zim's mind quirped before he could supress the idea.

Minutes passed. Dib didn't seem to be particularly interested in killing him today, he just seemed, content maybe? Feeling suddenly either very brave, or else more fearful than ever, Zim tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Almost as if he was praying, but the Earthen notion of Gods meant nothing to his superior race.

_Zim was trembling, he never trembled._

_"Give up Zim, you can't win this!" The boy yelled at him as he ran towards his enemy. _

_What a stupid request, although he was right Zim had to admit. Feeling exasperated with the repetitiveness their face downs, Zim sighed loudly, hoping to release some of the tension in his chest, and dropped to his knees on the his door step. Lightly his gloved fingers played over dagger between them._

_"Go away."_

_"What?" _

Zim nearly smiled, how innocent Dib had looked. The perfect face of a child, eyes wide in confusion. If he had just said 'okay Zim, sure thing' and left; skipped home and went to bed. Zim wouldn't have done it. He had looked for reasons not to, just as he had looked for reasons why he should. But as always, Dib was persistent.

_The human came closer, too close. Obviously Zim had lived on Earth long enough not to hold any awe over the boy any longer. The boy claimed to be an expert on humans, wouldn't that include their emotions as well? Why else would he love his overly emotional planet so much? But he couldn't see the emotions layed out on Zim's face. Perhaps it was too dark, but the street lamps had been, spreading a darkened yellow but hard light over them. Though through all his own torment, wouldn't Dib be able to recognize it in others? Why didn't he see the weapon?_

In some ways Zim had relied on Dib to be persistent, if Dib, a prisoner of this mud ball, could remain hopeful, then Zim would be able to as well. It was a bit egotistical, but it worked in its own way. For awhile, he must have expected too much of the boy. Why had he assumed Dib would simply read his thoughts and leave him? Why had he expected Dib to be more than he was? He was only a child after all.

_Dib took another step, his boot clicking solidly on the cement._

_Too close._

_In a single moment Zim pulled the dagger out and threw himself at his enemy._

He seemed surprised that Zim would attack him with an Earth weapon, offended almost, betrayed, but the alien was surprised too. Originally Zim hadn't planned to use it, not against a person, not against Dib.

Zim's eyes open with a realization, something he hadn't noticed despite the events of that night contantly plaguing him.

He had meant to kill himself.

Just another way in which he failed as an Irken. He had been trying to help the human, leave him a body instead of a charred piece of Earth as he was tempted to with the push of his familiar, reliable self destruct device. It had meant to be his first and last act of kindness for Dib.

_They'd struggled for a moment, but Dib's strength was no match for the naturally superior Irken muscles. Zim gained control and brought the dagger down with a cry._

The smallest of gasps escaped him before Zim's breath caught in his throat. The ruby Irken eyes focus ahead of him. Jerking slightly he tried to draw a breath the Irken barely managed not to vomit.

Dib sat so _close_, only a few feet away, calmly sitting cross-legged with his chin rested on his palm. Just watching, always watching. The pool of blood suggested he had been there for quite some time, while Zim was hiding within his memories. Zim now realized that's what he had been doing, although it seemed a bold action. And all that time Dib was close enough to touch him with his dead fingers, while his Earth blood, nearly the same rich color as Zim's eyes, spread curiously towards Zim's boots.

Standing suddenly straighter, eyes narrowed, a little more of the Irken soldier emerged; Zim was determined not to give himself up. He sidestepped around the boy, careful not to bring them closer together, and walked into the kitchen, where Dib was already sitting at the far end of the table, leaning casually on his elbows.

Zim sat down opposite him in a casual manner and sorted through the pile of homework rudely strewn about, he was looking for the assignment that would take the longest. Dib just watched, but then, he always watched Zim do his homework.

Math and science were easy, the Earthlings were so far behind in those departments Zim felt like he was a smeet again. American history was easily done, he would ask his computer for answers and just slip some spelling errors to make it seem believable.

Ah ha, language arts. Zim held no understanding for creative writing, poetry or any of the other assignments his teacher asked for. The computer couldn't create either, so he either had to do them on his own. Or find another way to cheat. Tomorrow a poem was due. Zim decided he hated poetry.

Dib's poetry had always been sad, and seem to bounce from one place to another, like a battle or a rage, in time, Zim thought, he could have learned to understand it. Not that he would get the chance now. Though Dib had never read them allowed, Zim had always read them from curiousity, wondering what it would reveal about his enemy. Emotions, were the same as weaknesses. Poetry was emotional, so it must reveal his weaknesses, Zim had reasoned.

That was an idea. No one would remember if it had anything to do with Dib, certainly Ms. Bitters wasn't listening.

Zim called for his computer to bring him Dib's backpack, the one that was left on the side walk after the ambulence had rolled slowly away. The one no one thought was important, although neither had Zim really, but he hadn't destroyed it, feeling maybe, he'd destroyed enough for one night. Or he had some darker motive that he'd lost interest in to the point of forgetting what it was completely.

Dib stayed unmoving, while Zim leafed though a rather worn but common place notebook. Without looking up Zim knew Dib's eyes were on him, and he was always aware that the boy was close enough to touch him. Anytime he felt like it, dead cold fingers against his skin. Zim's throat tightened at the thought, wordless fear. Leaning low the binder, he almost felt another quick wave of guilt roll through his chest, because of his prying. 'What are you doing!' Dib would have said, 'Quit that, that's mine!'

He didn't care now, he was dead.


	3. Chapter three

(AN: I've had some really nice comments and want to recognize that. I wont use names, they're listed in the comments, and unless is directly relates to you, no one usually cares. I always thought is was tedious to try and read a chapter that is half comments and a few paragraphs of writing. But I really appreciate the support, and want you to know that.

My writing tends to get chunky, I fall into tangents and leave questions unanswered. I try to clear any confusion brought up in the reviews in the next chapter, but I confuse myself sometimes and have to be careful. Thank you for looking past that and bearing with me.)

* * *

The morning had been quiet, GIR had not come back, and Zim spent the night at the table with Dib. Either watching the other's blood seep across the table, or dozing off and on until nightmares jolted him awake. Though he saw the same image before him awake as in the nightmare that kept him from sleeping.

Eventually sun shined into the kitchen and Zim stood, shaky with fatigue, trying to revive his cramped muscles. He kept a careful eye on the boy as he gathered his papers, now wet with blood and carefully put his disguise on, then jogged most of the way to school. He hadn't been this anxious about Dib's presence since the boy had first began to haunt Zim.

It seemed Dib was everywhere, blood seemed to fallow him, eyes in every shadow. The Irken found himself too spooked to get too close to dark corners or partially opened doors. Dead fingers on his skin, his jerked fearfully every time Dib appeared to him, expecting it. His classmates must think he was insane by now.

Another Earth day was passing for Irken Zim.

Zim's was hunched over his desk, holding his pencil at ready, thinking he should make some adjustments to his piece, but not knowing what or how. A quiet voice in his head told him to tare the thing to pieces and fail the assignment, but he also knew that meant and hour of after school detention.

Zim didn't hear the boy before him finish reading his poem and sit down or Ms. Bitters call his name, the alien didn't look up until her shadowed figure hunched over him. "It's your turn Zim, go read your horrible poem."

Without a word he moved to the front of the class holding his paper tight in his hands, annoyed that the students were already snickering. Someone had to be the joke of the class, the other students couldn't function properly without knowing there was always someone worse off than they were. Without Dib, the boy had been quickly forgotten and quickly replaced, Zim was the next choice.

The Irken took a deep breath before he turned. It had to be done, a few minutes of humiliation and it's over. Zim never expected himself to fit in with the humans, but it didn't lessen his sense of failure that he couldn't master a form of art so common to them.

The entire class watched Zim pale visibly in front of them, but didn't know why. Dib's eyes met his, comfortably leaning back in Zim's seat, waiting for him to start. How long had be been there? Zim shivered trying to recall if he had felt anything touch his back as he got up, but couldn't be sure, he felt fingers all over his simply from fear.

An urge built up in Zim's chest, the urge to scream at his class. 'Look, Dib's sitting at my desk., see him!' but fought it. Not even these horrible children were dull enough to miss a blood covered child in the front row.

When Zim opened his mouth, sure he would scream, it surprised even him when he calmly began his poem.

'Something heavy

Something dead

Hallow and rotten

Hides inside my ribs

Grasping my heart

Grasping my brain

It tries to tare them apart

Truth and reason

Strangled and lost

Hear a voice so close to my own

A wretched voice

Whispers to my brain

An evil voice

That I can't really hear

Grasping my lungs

Stealing my air

Finger curling around them

Rusted mean hooks

Wrap around my soul

Eyes tell me what I already know'

Zim struggled for a breath, to him his voice had become pathetically emotional, but poetry made sense to him at that moment, it was a cry for help. Voice dangerously low Zim completed his poem and inspected his classmates for reactions. Nothing but silence, finally Ms. Bitters cleared her throat and came to stand next to the alien.

"That was horrible Zim, wasn't that horrible class? The class nodded, but nobody laughed as he expected. This disappointed him, if there was any pity to be gained from the demon that would have earned it. "Take your seat Zim."

Zim didn't move, he couldn't, not with Dib sitting at his desk, Several students snickered. Zim stayed in front of the class holding his poem at his chest. No one saw him trembling.

"I can't"

Bitter's sighed, everything was always so complicated with children. "And why not?"

Zim swallowed, "There's a..." He struggled to find the right word, "monster... in my seat."

A wave of sound erupted, everyone was laughing. But Dib was still in his seat, covering it in blood. Zim still didn't move, that was the price of honesty. He let the laughter continue.

The first one who gained himself enough to speak, pointed a finger and said, "You're crazy!"

Something about Dib's image seemed to twitch, the boys head snapped towards the speaker. It was the first time Zim had seen Dib acknowledge another living person other than himself. A nerve had been hit with the undead.

Zim felt sick, and resisted the urge to scream and run from the room. Dib left his seat, never removing his eyes from his new target. The boy came to stand on the other side of the room, opposite Zim with that angry disposition back on his face.

The Irken reluctantly took his seat, clenching and unclenching his fists. His eyes kept blinking like he'd seen Earth children do when they were holding back tears. Blood seeped into his clothe.

Silence grew again and Ms. Bitters called the next student up to read.

Zim tried to concentrate, either the poem was about love or sausage, not that there was a terrible difference; he pretended he wasn't sitting in his enemy's blood. While the dead boy stood next to his heartless classmate with an evil look. Would Dib hurt the boy? Could he? His anger seemed at the moment not directed at Zim, but for the other human. Even in death would Dib hurt a member of the species he tried so hard to protect? If so, nothing would save Zim from being the next victim, and the Irken knew Dib wanted nothing more than to see him dead.

The Irken wondered subconsciously whether this Dib before him, that he knew was to kill him, was really the same one who had died at his hands. An empty shell, a nightmare to fallow Zim until he felt ready to end his life.

Dib was so close to the student, if the he leaned forward they would touch, face to face like a malicious kiss. Zim placed a hand over his mouth to stifle his nausea. How could he not be seen?

Everything he'd come to understand about the demon became false. Dib grinned, unnaturally wide, revealing blood stained teeth, like he was pleased at his own state. His eyes met Zim's

Zim convulsed, letting out a small moan. That was too much; he leapt from his seat and sprinted out the door. The class stared at the swinging door wide eyed. They would never know why, even though the reason was walking silently out the door before their eyes.

Zim bolted down the corridor, slipping on the cheap tile. He turned into the boy's bathroom and collapsed on the floor, retching into one of the filthy toilets.

Dib came in and stood outside the stall, his scuffed boots were the only thing showing behind the closed door.

Zim dry heaved, his slender shoulders shuddering with the force. Behind him he heard a sound, knowingly he shrunk away, putting as much distance between him and demon as he could, and listened to the blood drip onto the floor.

* * *

The janitor came into the bathroom, pulling a mop and bucket with him that day after school. Uncommitted he cleaned for a few minutes, then a sound caught his attention. "Hello?" Listening more carefully, he followed the sound to a bathroom stall. Upon opening it he was shocked to dicovor a child laying curled up on the floor.

The janitor took a call phone off his belt and called the principal, while the man waited, the boy mumbled something, but the janitor couldn't understand it, he wasn't even sure if it was English.

What are you waiting for?


	4. Chapter four

Zim had waited a long time, he was dozing off, surprisingly, but these sessions with his enemy were always physically exhausting as well as mentally. Zim wondered whether he would be moving at all that night. He would stay curled up on the floor all night if it kept him alive, despite the filth. It must his Irken blood still strong, or fear, which Irken's did not posses. At least they claimed not to.

His mind was wondering, the images of Dib smiling, his malice. It haunted Zim making him trembled. Eventually his eyes had slid shut, lulled sickeningly by the dripping of blood.

_Dib tensed, his eyes suddenly wide in terror. Slowly the boy looked down at his chest, a dagger in his heart. He was going to die. "Zim..."_

_Zim, at that moment, thought he should laugh, or pull the blade out and stab him again, something along those lines. He was a member of the Irken race, he could still prove himself, couldn't he? Zim did none of the things he knew an invader would do, he just stared, backing away from the boy._

_"I've won Dib." The words were not spoken with the triumph he felt, the feeling quickly faded. He had won, that isn't what he wanted._

_Dib collapsed to his knees, wheezing as his lungs and throat filled with blood. A look crossed Dib's face, hatred. It took him several tries to say his last words, in the end they were barely audible, but the message was just as clear. "You'll never win..." _

Zim opened his eyes, seeing the grimy floor and sneering in disgust. Then he saw Dib, in the same spot as before, but the door was fully open so Zim could see the small smile on the others face.

Fighting against his sore throat Zim whispered, "What are you waiting for?"

Dib didn't answer of course, he never did, but he seemed to respond. His figure, in a sense, became very heated. Vibrating with the hatred and violence he must be feeling, but surprisingly stepped away, not closer to Zim. The Irken shuddered, for a moment he didn't comprehend why he had struck suck a nerve with Dib. He was so angry, more so than Zim had seen him dead or alive, and all it was take was one more step to end him. An voice caught his attention, then with a jerk his mind came back on from its darkened retreat.

His heart was racing, a preset anxiety looking for a way out.

His eyes focused, and Zim's breath quickened, as he inspected the dirty old man, than looked to Dib. That's why Dib had stepped away. Their eyes met for just a flash, then Dib led Zim to see what the current source of his enemy's anger was.

The blood was pooled on the ground before Zim, as always the mark of Dib's presence. The man stood in it, the blood soaking into his pant legs.

If Zim looked back on Dib's short life, much of the reasoning behind the boy's pain was very clear to him. He was ignored his entire life. But never so ignored as he was now in death. Sickeningly, Zim knew Dib had every right to be as he was now. To live your life as a shadow, to have someone stand in your blood and still be unnoticed was reason for anger enough for Zim.

Dib moved, but it began so slight Zim watched for a long time before he noticed.

Zim considered himself brilliant, though he was the only one who truly understood why, and couldn't even explain it to himself. It wasn't until these last few month that a new voice had emerged questioning both himself and his conscious, and he had begun to think he wasn't what he thought he was. It that voice that allowed him to see know that his mind was not functioning properly. And hear the single phrase echoing through his head like a chant.

Cold dead fingers.

Cold dead fingers cold dead fingers cold dead fingers

Reaching out.

colddeadfingerscolddeadfingerscolddeadfingerscolddeadfingers...

They would wrap around his throat and dig in...

colddeadfingerscolddeadfingerscolddeadfingerscolddeadfingers...

"You're standing in his blood!"

The scream swelled up inside Zim like light reaching the end of a tunnel. Using his mechanical spider legs Zim propelled himself at the man, both of them crashing against the far wall, out of the grasp of Dib's outstretched arm. Zim jumped up immediately willing his cramped muscles to obey him.

There was a yell, and someone knocking to the ground, bracing him with weight. Zim thrashed, letting out a few breathless curse words, then seeing it was the principal that held him, he went limp. He cringed, this had brought a lot of unwanted attention. That was very bad, though not really, not once Zim thought about it. He could easily tare off his disguise, summon his Voot cruiser and leave. Though not if he wanted to live, Dib would right their with him, with no where to run in the vacuum of space.

"He's dead." Another staff member called out.

The principal gave Zim a hard look, the alien looked to the janitor. Lifeless, his position showing that he had broken his spine on one the the porcelain sinks. That was fine, Zim wasn't trying to save his life anyway. Anything to keep himself from knowing, about Dib, about himself. Whether he had really lost his mind or... those angry eyes, the reaching fingers. Were really meant to be his fate.

"How did this happen?" The principal asked Zim, his face contorted in horror at the child beneath him.

Zim was unable to invoke any emotion for the old man's demise. It also seemed senseless for the principal to tackle Zim, who he believed to be just a frail child, then ask whether it was his fault or not. The Irken kept silent. The principal moved off him, helped Zim to his feet and kneel in front of him with a steady hand on head shoulder. "Tell me what happened."

Zim had already been conjuring a lie to answer the questions. Then the hidden ruby eyes widened, seeing a pale hand reaching for the man's head. Zim called out fearfully and gripping the man's shirt wretched both of them to the side. Using the principals broad body as a shield.

"Somebody call the police."

The Earth authorities? Zim let the principal free and backed away. "No! I'm normal. I just want to go home..." Stumbling backwards the alien accidentally walked into the janitor's corpse, still hanging from the sink. The thing fell onto Zim's shoulder, hastily he pushed it away in disgust.

They would handcuff and handle him. They'd ask him questions faster than he could make lies. Rip of his disguise and tape the whole thing to put on Dib's grave with a flower. "Please, I'm just a little boy." Zim put on a face he hoped was innocents.

The sound of sirens rang dully into the bathroom, one of the three teachers ran out to meet them. The other two formed a wall between Zim and the door, between Zim and Dib. The teachers must think Zim would run from them, they must think he's insane.

Dib was watching the scene calmly now, the dimly lit bathroom, took the sheer off Dib's cracked glasses and gave Zim a clear view of the boy's hazel eyes. The freezing stare locked Zim in place, condemning him to his thoughts until a group of police man burst in.

"Okay son, just stay calm, we're going to take you down to the station and call your parents." Despite the calming words, they pushed Zim against the wall, pulling his thin arms roughly around his pak and handcuffed them in place. Zim already knew the Earth officials standards for dealing with children. He was surprised they hadn't simply drugged him and thrown him into a padded room. Irken soldiers would never think of treating a smeet like this on Irk.

Leading the alien out of the room, Zim cowered away from the spot where Dib stood. Moaning sickly when there bodies came inches from contact.

Dib did not join his enemy in the back of the police car. Though Zim knew the dead child would be waiting for him when he stepped, or more likely, was dragged from the police vehicle. Dib would be there, standing in a puddle of his own blood.


	5. Chapter five

(AN: Thank you for the reviews, I really appreciate them. I've had a lot of people telling this story is horrifying. I agree, it's given me the creeps and I've been writing horror stories since elementary school. But chapter six is the last chapter, the hopefully satisfying conclusion to my first completed story.)

'What's your name?'

'Where are your parents?'

'Why didn't you go home after school?'

'Who killed the janitor?'

'Were you alone in the bathroom?'

Zim clutched the edge of his chair, desperatly trying to gain control of himself, until the police grew tired of his simple introverted answers and gave up. For the moment he was alone, but he knew he was being watched through the suspiciously placed mirror in the room. They must know he killed the old man, it was obvious. They just didn't know why.

Zim was trying his hardest to remain seated, swinging his legs listlessly. He teetered slightly against the anticipation in his nerves. When every instinct within him told him to run and escape before this horrid place became his tomb. But the better part of him, the small and tired logic in his brain told him to hold his ground.

Dib was not in the room with him. But the dark seep of a shadow shown from outside the door, and a small trickle of blood was slowly crawling its way across the floor to where the alien sat told him he was there. There were bloodied hand prints on the table, impatiently smeared. And smudges on the walls and floor. The dead boy had been inside the room at some point when Zim wasn't looking. Zim kept his eyes fixed on the shadow beneath the door, as long as it was there, Dib could not be behind him.

The alien's mind was drifting, once in a while his head would nod forward with exhaustion. For a few moments after his nightmares would linger, casting the room with gore, burning eyes, and his own mutilated figure. Then the visions would fade, bringing him back to what was 'real'.

In his exhausted wait Zim found himself trying to remember one of the poems Dib had written before he had been killed. Thinking that he would now be able to understand it. But he could barely remember any words. All he recalled was the unsteady chant like rhythm.

'As I listen to the footsteps...'

That might be how it began, it fit with the beating running though his skull. Zim couldn't be sure, he hadn't been listening at the time. Though he remembered enough to know the irony it held for him now. His own subconscious fit to the irregular beat as well.

The trickle of blood came close to his chair, and then it stopped, caught in a crack in the floor, and spread like a spider web on the tile.

'And my name is being called'

He knew inevitably that his death had come. The Irken convulsed slightly in fear. The death for all of Dib's enemies had come for the wrong they had caused the child. Something within Zim was fleeting, something he needed desperately. His mind if not simply his rationing.

Unable to resist Zim any longer jumped to him feet. If Dib killed no one, it was likely Zim would in his own horror. Zim told himself, if not just to keep himself from screaming, that if Dib could kill he would have done so, and Zim would not be thinking these thoughts. He told himself that Dib could not, because he needed to hear it.

Having been aware of Zim's sudden movement, there was a slight chatter from outside the door approaching, and two pairs of shadows appeared beneath the door with Dib's. Zim waited; they would open the door to further interrogate him and allow Dib to come inside.

It never came. He found it increasingly hard to swallow, and strained to listen to the voices outside the door. One was saying the other's name in a hushed voice, the curiosity in it was obvious. Something was happening, Zim wanted to know what it was, but at the same knew he wouldn't like it.

The Irken leaned forward, holding his breath. Crying out suddenly he stumbled backwards and tripped over the back of the chair. The air escaped him and yellow light played in front of his eyes. A piercing cry of a woman collided with Zim's head.

The door opened and was not closed. The man who entered was running and in his haste never considered to close the door. Not that it would in reality help, it was simply another test of the alien's belief. Shrieking the man went to the far corner of the room and cowered. Muttering a chorus of 'oh my god' and some of lord based prayers that were meaningless to the alien.

It's seemed pathetic that a human, especially one trained in the ways of protection, had gone to hysterics so easily, and with his own life in danger could not even bother to protect what he saw as a child.

Zim would have scoffed at the shameful display, if he himself was not tempted to do the same. Instead he got to his feet again to see the source of the man's horror was. Catching just a brief shot of Dib's lowered head and woman lying on the floor at his feet.

If your trying to save your own life, you don't really care how you do so, as long as you live. Zim gagged, his mechanical legs shot out of his pak and he clung to the far wall. The police man was now stuck staring and screaming at the boy clinging to the wall with spider legs and his dead colleague on the floor.

The door swung back open more slowly, Dib strode in with a surprising coolness.

"What do you want?" Zim yelled, his voice was high and unfamiliar.

The trembling man misinterpreted Zim and responded, "Oh my god. You killed her! Stay back."

Zim tore him eyes from his enemy to glance at the woman on the floor. Her eye's were darting frantically, they caught Zim's pleading for help, but she couldn't be saved even if Zim had wanted to. Cold dead fingers, the alien could see the holes in her throat through the blood.

Dib was still advancing, and the blood on the boy hands was not his own. There was both increasing horror and lowly relief that the man seemed to acknowledge Dib with a pointed finger. Although Zim never truly examined the mans target.

It eluded that alien that the man never defended himself or tried to escape. Even when he was crippled my Dib's inhuman grasp. The man screamed until the noise was drowned in blood. Dib looked at Zim without lifting his head and grinned triumphantly.

Shaking his head vigorously Zim instinctively jumped over the boy and crashed to the floor, cursing and praying in Irken. Too disturbed to control his pak he ran for the door on foot, challenged by his own spasms and pessimistic thoughts of his own death.


	6. Chapter six

(AN: This is the last chapter, you may feel it leaves you hanging, but the ending is really up to interpretation, I guess that's the enigma of it all. I want to write something other than horror, but that usually never works for me. This fanfiction wasn't even supposed to be horror.

Thank you all for the amazing reviews; it was a really big encouragement for me to continue.)

_Darkness had fallen over the sleeping world. Only one boy was not safely in bed. Dib jumped back panting, his mind too cluttered with questions to care about the hour. Zim had acted so strange in school that day. The normally boisterous Irken had been oddly quiet in the past few days, oddly defeated. He'd come and gone with the tide of students without a word to Dib._

_Now Dib wanted to find out why. He faced Zim, trying to get his answers. Although it seemed Zim had nothing to say for once. The alien stood quietly, looking slightly irritated at the disturbance._

_It was night in the park, Zim held a leash in his gloved hand, suggesting that he'd taken his robot out. Though the SIR was nowhere to be seen, Dib assumed the thing was off frolicing._

_"Give up Zim, you can win this!" Dib yelled, pointing a finger. It was the only thing he could think of to end the silence, but it wasn't what he wanted to say. He didn't know what he wanted to say, he could barely his real feelings beneath the cold of heroism._

_Zim sighed rolling his eyes slightly, and dropped onto his knees. "Go away." Was all the Irken said without looking up._

_Dib was stopped short, he knew even less of what to say to that. Zim was acting so strangely. His voice held none of its usually malice. "What?" He'd began to approach Zim, without knowing why. It's seemed the right thing to do, maybe Zim wasn't up to something after all. Maybe he could finally end this nightmare without bloodshed..._

Zim pitched forward and collapsed against a metal fence. Peering through the bars he could see endless rows of illuminated gravestones. His heavy breathing was the only audible sound. Where there should have been footsteps there was nothing.

For a while police sirens had fallowed him, but he'd lost them easily. They didn't know where he was going, they would never guess never knowing what his true crimes were. Breathing heavily he allowed himself to slip to his knees, and glanced over his shoulder. In the distance he could see a figure, illuminated darker than the night.

Dib had been behind Zim the whole way, allowing him to gain distance. That hadn't decreased Zim'd nervousness about making corners and passing alleys. Dib would soon catch up to Zim, he could whenever he please. The child was simply playing games, enjoying his sure victory.

A shiver went up the Irken's spine and he clutched the bars harder. For a moment he closed his eyes, trying to picture anything that would bring him comfort. If had found something, found comfort, he might have just stayed where he was and allowed his own death. Zim found no memory suitable. Bracing, the alien heaved himself over the fence and landed clumsily on his feet.

Zim regained his balance and looked back through the bars. Dib was not there. He looked at his hands, wondering why he had had no grip. Then realized they were soaked in blood. Ho must have put his hand in a puddle of it during his escape, Zim decided, tearing them off in disgust. His chest already pounding, he began moving along the gate, slowly first. Then as his head dropped Dib's feet moved in the his vision nearly touching his own boots, he burst into a full run.

Somewhere between the peace in the police station and Zim's race to the graveyard he'd forgotten why he had come here. A feeling lingered within him and told him to move on. The Irken cursed himself. _Turn and face your enemy, killers can be killed._ His thoughts only led him back to his own death. Zim continued running, automatically turning towards his destination. His mind was not with his body, with a kind of tired exasperation that fallowed him home from school every day.

Somehow Zim felt he was doing the right thing. Even though he knew his fate; a final retribution to his horror and curiosity was necessary. One last move before the cold dead fingers laced into his throat.

Zim turned down one row, heading for one stone. The blue light illuminated his faces, showing it's horror. The light threw shadows everywhere, thousands of places for Zim to be caught off guard.

Zim knew where Dib's grave was from guilt, he'd watched it from afar, hidden. More observing the ritual than participating in it. He didn't know until later why he had gone at all. While the boy's family and others, mostly fans of his father or waiting for a paycheck, paid their respects.

It didn't seem logical that humans would need a stone to remember the dead. He also hadn't felt he had the right to stand on the grave of a body that he meant to be his own. Now it didn't matter. Zim glanced behind quickly to keep track of his follower. Dib was there as always. It didn't seem logical that humans used a grave when Zim was the real tomb.

His eyes scanned the names on the stones, struggling with the strange alphabet. Then stopped, reading the glowing words as they scrolled by.

Dib Membrane

Age ten

Zim cried out when he realized a figure was perched atop the stone, when blood began to drip down the side of the stone. Zim hadn't been able to see it because of the lighting. Only the gleam on his cracked glasses was truly visible. Trembling he began to back away, but knew Dib would be where be ran. He stood frozen, panting, for nearly a minute, unable to run any further.

An odd thought crossed the alien's mind, Dib had no reason to hurt him; this was worse for the alien than death. The anxiety of his task must be a more pleasing torture than pain. Zim dropped gasping to his knees and began exhaustedly paw at the ground before him.

After awhile Zim stopped when a thought crossed his mind. A human phrase, 'six feet under'. Zim wasn't used to being without his gloves, and looked at them scowling at their filthiness. Dirt stuck to his skin in globs, he could see the blood. It must have soaked through, but he couldn't imagine how he had had gotten so much blood on him. Taking a few breaths and glancing up he began to dig more desperately.

Six feet under there would be a box. Zim was determined to see the corpse, half rotten and lying harmless inside the coffin. He was desperate to scream at Dib, tell him why he can't be haunting Zim, that he isn't really there. He was desperate to end the nightmare, and finally allow himself solitude.

The hole atop the coffin grew deeper and wider, and was beginning to show glimpses of polished stone. Despite Zim's clumsiness towards the physical exertion. Dawn was breaking, causing the air to look gray and Zim's skin a sickly pale. Beneath the dirt the alien felt his fingers bleeding, but didn't stop. Couldn't stop, he dug frantically with an unfocused pace.

By the time the sun actually touched the alien, he was crumbled against a child-sized coffin. Too tired to care about the filth. Dib had left his perch and stood outside the hole watching down on Zim. Zim looked up, and only pulled himself to his feet when he received a wicked grin that reset his determination.

Taking a deep breath Zim pushed his back against the crumbling dirt wall, and his knees locked between the Earth and the coffin. Zim set to heaving the stone lid away. Dirt fell on him, several times he had to stop to rebuild the wall and clear away more dirt before he could continue.

All the while Dib watched almost joyfully. Zim was pained by the boy's amusement, not sure what it foretold for his discovery. He still felt he was doing the right thing, though he had been trained not to take action off of hunches alone. Trained by a society that had abandoned him.

Finally he lifted the lid about a foot, holding it awkwardly with his shoulder. It allowed him a glimpse inside. The sight caused his knees to buckle, and he nearly dropped the stone lid. His question had been answered, and everything he had been holding on to dissipated with the night. With a single cry he threw the lid up, it landed in the small gutter he'd dug up on all sides of the box, and revealed it's secrets.

The movement caused the wall to collapse over Zim's head. Bringing him to his knees inside the empty coffin. There was no body, you couldn't even tell there had ever been one. Save for the array of artifacts, mostly dead flowers.

Zim's attention was drawn up, Dib had joined him inside the coffin. Surprisingly as Zim pushed himself against the far wall, he noticed that Dib was not smiling. They stared into each others eyes for a moment. Then, cocking his head to the side softly Dib reached out.

In the face of death comes an odd calmness. Zim's chest was beating so hard his head hurt. He could not gain control of his breath. Death looked him in the eye and he could not accept it like he knew he should. From all the things he had done in his lifetime, he knew that this was not right.

Dib reached out, but the hand did not aim for Zim's throat. It paused at his own chest and rested on the dagger.

_As I listen to the footsteps_

_Knowing know ones there_

_Hearing the claws drag_

_They're not the reasons to be scared_

The dying, depending on their death receive serenity. Dib never accepted death by the hands of his mortal enemy, who was only an enemy by how they were raised to act. Zim would had accepted death by his owns hands, but used them instead to kill another.

He would accept it now.

_I will my feet to move_

_But they're frozen where I stand_

_And my name is being called _

_By a voice I know is dead_

Zim sunk down against the dirt wall, coming to rest in what was supposed to be the final resting place of his enemy. Blood seeped from a puncture in his chest, and two hands wrapped around the daggers that caused the fatal wound. The hands were his own.

_The voice of someone breathing_

_It begs me to be scared_

_My heart stops in my throat_

_My mind twists in pain_

The only cold dead fingers were his own. His enemy was as real as he was, only he didn't know whether he really existed or not.

_Why did I let you leave me_

_Knowing they were there_

_I see their shadows_

_In the light under the door_

There were days, at first, when he thought he was just having a mental rush, a nervous breakdown as the Earthlings called it. Now he knew neither was true; insainity was the enemy, and he was his own greatest nightmare come true.

_Wondering when they'll see me_

_What they want me for_

_It's to late for being scared_

_When they're right outside the door._

Fin


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